Green Thumb
by satan-chillin
Summary: Connor develops an affinity for flowers and plants in general. Hank isn't discouraging him though.


this fic is unbeta-ed.

Also, Happy Birthday, Lieutenant! :D

* * *

Hank was pretty sure it wasn't there yesterday.

His desk was neater recently, so there was no way he would miss the single violet flower in a vase that he didn't recall buying.

"Did you put that here?" Hank asked Connor from the next desk, gesturing at the flower.

"Yes," Connor said before asking with a little hesitation, "You don't like it?"

Hank shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine." He wasn't an expert, but it did add some color.

Connor nodded, glancing back at Hank interestedly as if waiting for something—for what, Hank didn't know.

"Thanks?" Hank offered. Was Connor waiting for his gratitude?

"You're welcome, Lieutenant," Connor replied with a small smile.

He looked like he was still waiting eagerly for whatever it was that Hank has no clue of.

When Hank didn't say anything else, he pretended not to notice Connor's mild disappointment.

* * *

The previous one hasn't wilted yet, though it wasn't looking as fresh at it was yesterday. There was a new one that joined it, this time the color of orange.

Hank to admit that they were nice to look at, colors striking in contrast. He didn't know what they were called, because as far as flowers go, Hank was only familiar with roses and lilies.

"Those are tropical flowers," Connor said first when he saw Hank observing them. "I hope you don't mind that I got you another."

"Nah, it's fine. Just never overdo it. Don't want the others to think I'm starting a small flower garden on my desk."

"Noted."

There was that same expression from yesterday when Hank observed him surreptitiously from the corners of his eyes. Hank had to rack up his brain as to what Connor was hoping to hear other than a thank you.

"So, uh, what are they called?"

Connor pointed at the violet ones, "That is the Blue Dawn flower."

"Isn't the color violet?"

"Purple-blue, actually," Connor corrected him. Well, at least violet was a close guess. Besides, Connor's eyes might be seeing more colors than Hank's. "It opens in the morning and fades to magenta in evening."

Hank wasn't paying attention to that yesterday. Maybe later before they go home.

"The orange flower is called Decorative Dahlia. Its kind is normally large, and this is one is the smallest I can find."

"Where do you even get them?"

"At the shopping district, there's an android working in the flower shop where Markus and I went to order several bouquets for the fallen Jericho members. Markus personally wanted to make the preparations for those who passed away."

"Oh."

"Her name is Kim, and she gave those flowers to me for free as a sign of gratitude for us who took part in the movement and to extend her thanks to you."

Hank blinked, slightly startled. "Me?"

"I told her that they're for you. I may have also told her that I live with you now and that you have a hand in my deviancy."

Hank didn't know that he had some influence in Connor's deviancy. Awkwardly, Hank turned away when a warm and fuzzy feeling bloomed inside his chest. "That's nice of her. Tell her that she's welcome."

It was easy to miss, but Hank did see how Connor's usual expression softened. It wasn't hard to compare him to a kid whose friend was approved by his parent.

Hank felt an odd sense of satisfaction there.

* * *

There was a new vase sitting by the window sill.

Hank might have mentioned that he didn't know much shit when it came to flowers, but the yellow ones, if he wasn't mistaken, were orchids.

"They're not high maintenance, and the watering has to be done only once a week," Connor said when he followed Hank's line of sight.

"Did the florist give it for free too?"

"No. I bought it." Since the government's acknowledgement of the androids as part of the American living population, androids were paid for their services just as any employed human. "I picked them myself."

Hank grunted, peering at Connor curiously. "Is this like a new hobby of yours?"

"In a way," Connor said, tilting his head. "We weren't built to appreciate even the little forms of life, that's why nature became an interest of mine since I deviated."

Hank hummed; that was reasonable. "Not that I mind." The only possible problem would be Sumo toppling the vase over, but Sumo was a good boy who didn't make much mess. He would be alright.

"I do keep in mind what you said about not overdoing it, and I try to choose those that don't have a strong smell. It won't do to aggravate Sumo's nose."

Hank nodded, attention returning to the television. A few moments later, he observed Connor's fingers tapping on his own lap, as if impatiently waiting despite his eyes on the news as well.

"What is it?" Hank asked. This seemed oddly familiar.

"Nothing," Connor said. From his angle, Hank wasn't able to see if the LED flashed yellow—his surest way to know whether Connor was hiding something or experiencing a complex human emotion.

If Connor wasn't going to talk about it, Hank would just have to take his word for it.

* * *

Hank noticed how the house seemed more vibrant and livelier than before within a few weeks. It wasn't just having another housemate either; those flowers were really doing wonders on the overall ambience.

He barely batted an eye at how there was another different flower each day, both in and out of the house. It was Hank's own way of encouraging Connor's interest, and Connor was more than glad to decorate the front lawn with a variety of colors from different kinds of flowers. The small backyard was even tended, with a few herbs grown that he was using in his cooking. It was economical for their budget that was enough for more than for two people. At the same time, Connor could put more nutrients at Hank's food whether the latter like it or not. While Hank wasn't looking forward to an all-green diet once the vegetables from the plot became harvestable, Connor was good at what he was doing that Hank would have eaten a horse if Connor was the one to cook it. It was like having a gourmet chef at home—and Connor said he was _still_ learning.

His desk at DPD got the same treatment. There was always a new flower there, with the withering ones thrown away regularly. The vase never held more than three stems, varying from assorted colors of daisies to yellow roses. Occasionally, there was what Connor called Camellia that he said was his personal favorite. And, yes, he always told Hank which was which that Hank believed he has more knowledge about flowers now than ever. Connor might be moonlighting as a florist for all Hank knew.

Frankly, Hank was willing to push Connor in that direction, especially whenever he saw Connor's expression of fulfillment in seeing his efforts of tilling the land and watering the potted plants paying off.

If Connor was happy, then Hank was happy for him too.

* * *

When Hank visited this time, he has something else with him that wasn't a bottle of alcohol.

It was a simple bouquet that he had the android florist, Connor's friend, arranged for him. He only told her its purpose, and that was it. She whipped up an assortment of white and pink carnations, as well as daisies and those flowers with petals that shot upwards; cyclamens she said they were called. She told Hank that they meant good bye.

She offered him her condolences before he left, and on the way to Cole's grave, Hank thought back at how sincere it was coming from an android and the thoughtfulness put into the arrangement. He wondered briefly what the meaning of those flowers at home and on his desk. He would ask Connor later.

Hank only stood there after setting down the bouquet. He figured Cole had enough of his father's drunk ramblings and shattered glasses during his previous visits here. The silence would show the kid how well Hank has been doing at the present.

There were light sounds of footsteps behind Hank. He didn't turn around to look—he already has an idea who it might be, even if Hank didn't remember being told that he would be followed here.

"I do not mean to intrude, but I'd like to pay my respects as well," Connor said once he was standing beside Hank, carrying his own bouquet of flowers.

"Was actually thinking of bringing you with me next time. You just saved me the trouble." Hank gave Connor space to lean down. "You didn't have to bother, you know? He would have appreciated your presence alone."

"It's alright. I was on my way to the florist as well." Connor glanced at him. "I was looking for you," he simply said, and Hank understood in an instant that Connor searched at Jimmy's Bar and at Chicken Feed. This must be the last place he expected to find Hank, but he was far from complaining. Surprised, maybe, but in a good way.

It wasn't really planned, if Hank was to be honest. He just felt like he should go today. "So what did you bring?" Hank gestured at the flowers from Connor that has more colors like purple, pink, and white.

"Larkspurs are the small purple flowers; the pinks are carnations; and the whites are lilies." Connor's eyes blinked with the yellow flashes of his LED, until it settled on blue. "But I suppose you already know that," he added with what akin to disbelief and fascination in his tone.

Was it too hard to believe that he was a fast learner? "Yeah, well, you tell me stuffs about them recently."

"Oh. I didn't know you were listening."

Hank snorted. "Was that why you always have the disappointment face going on?"

"You also never asked what they mean." Hank squinted his eyes. That looked awfully like a pout. "I don't know what you mean by 'disappointment face' though," Connor insisted with a frown. Hank had to give it to him; the LED wasn't even changing its color blue. Too late though, too late.

"Jesus, you're funny, kid." Nobody told Hank this was what deviancy was capable of, making androids amusing without trying. Hank huffed out a laugh. The LED was rapidly blinking yellow then, and Connor was definitely doing the equivalent of a kid puffing his cheeks. Taking pity at the android, Hank cleared his throat instead. "He was a funny kid too. Cole," he shared. "But, hey, kids can do no wrong in their parents' eyes."

Connor's gaze landed on the gravestone curiously, processing what Hank said. Hank never told him anything regarding Cole before. This was entirely new. His curiosity slowly morphed into no small amount of fondness. "No. He must have been a funny kid, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, he was." Hank gave Connor a lopsided smile while his hand crept on top of Connor's head to tousle his hair affectionately. "You two would have gotten along," he murmured.

He wasn't sure if he was heard, but judging by the delight that remained on Connor's face even until Hank suggested they go home, Connor probably did.

"Hank," Connor said, stopping a few meters behind Hank.

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."

* * *

 _ **End**_

* * *

Blue Dawn Flower – not a metaphorical meaning but the plant is described as troublesome if left unchecked.

Decorative Dahlia – included in the positive symbolism of dahlias are inner strength and making major change in a positive way.

Yellow Orchids – joy and new beginnings.

White Carnation & Daisy – innocence.

Pink Carnation – remembrance; I'll never forget you.

Cyclamens – good bye.

Larkspur – beautiful spirit.

White Lily – restored purity of the departed.


End file.
